Neoplasm
by Synbou
Summary: Following the events of *Vis-a-vis*, Tom and his friends deal with the ups and downs of his battle with an enemy without honor


AUTHOR'S NOTE: April 1998. A few months ago, I met a great woman,  
Kathy. We were at the university together. As time passed, our  
friendship grew, and I learned that she had been battling breast  
cancer for the last 7 years. So, I started to write this story in  
order to express what I was feeling: the sadness, but also the  
courage she was inspiring me. That was last fall. As I write  
this, we are in March. I just learned that Kathy died a few days  
ago. It's hard to tell you how sad I am. But, I can tell you that  
I'll remember her determination, her will, and her strength.   
And the HOPE.   
This story is my way to face this decease that took away two  
members of my family, and now a friend, and to deal with the pain  
it can cause to someone, their love ones, and friends.  
I will Remember you, Kathy. And, I will miss you.  
Isabelle S.  
  
STANDARD DISCLAIMER. Paramount owns them, but the story mine. It  
would not have been possible without my friend Louise B, who  
co-wrote a few scenes.   
  
RATING: This is the PG-13 version.   
  
SYNOPSIS: Following the events of *Vis-a-vis*, Tom and his  
Friends deal with the ups and downs of his battle with an enemy   
without honor.  
  
Neoplasm   
By Synbou  
synbou@hotmail.com  
  
  
Tom Paris walked into Sickbay. It was just pass 0500 hours and  
The Doctor was already busy with Joe Carey. Paris nodded to the  
Doctor, picked up a medical tricorder and went to the physician's  
office. He took a deep breath before passing the scanner over  
himself and then crashed in the chair in front of the desk.   
  
He had been tired the last few days, putting up with his shifts  
on the bridge and the ones in Sickbay, being Kes's replacement.   
The last few weeks had just been hazardous on everyone. The ship   
was in Aklioni space: a new enemy for Voyager and her crew. They   
had been attacked a number of times. Tom had stopped counting   
them and the names of the injured people the Doctor and he had   
treated because of them.   
  
But that day, pain all over the Lieutenant's body had woke him up  
and a simple look at some nasty bruises had brought him to  
Sickbay. Tom's fear had went through the roof as he had read the   
data and discovered that he would have to face another enemy --  
an old one, who had left him alone for a while.   
  
***  
  
"Mr. Paris, is there something wrong?" the Doctor asked bringing  
the Lieutenant out of his thoughts. Paris looked at him. The  
Doctor saw that his skin was pale and his blue eyes were slightly  
unfocused due to fatigue and shock.   
  
"Doc, would you take a look at this?" he asked, his voice calm  
and soft.  
  
"Certainly Lieutenant," the EMH answered, taking the tricorder.  
He looked at the data and finally said: "you are developing  
leukemia. There is nothing to worry about, Mr. Paris. We can   
start bentazine therapy right away and it will only be a matter  
of days before the cancerous cells are completely destroyed and   
you'll be back to your old self, again."  
  
"I don't know, Doc. It's the second relapse. I guess Sandrine  
would say 'Jamais deux sans trois' . . . Bentazine doesn't work  
on me anymore. The last time, I went through with a full  
decytologenesis treatment." The Doctor's mouth just dropped at  
the name of the treatment, but did not interrupt. "Still, I  
don't understand. I should be fine. The decytologenesis worked  
even if we never found the cancerous gene. God, I don't wanna go   
through that again."  
  
"Lieutenant, why is there nothing of this mentioned in your  
medical file?"  
  
"I wasn't in Starfleet at the time"  
  
"But, even so . . . " The Doctor stopped at a gesture from Paris.  
  
"There is some explaining to do, I know. I can only imagine what  
the Captain is going to ask. So, I'll wait for her, if you don't  
mind. You think that you can give me something for the pain?"  
  
"I will, but before that I want to run a Level 3 cellular scan in  
order to confirm this diagnosis."  
  
***  
  
At 0800 hours sharp, Captain Kathryn Janeway entered in the  
Doctor's office. The EMH was sitting behind his desk and Tom  
Paris was facing him. Paris got to his feet and invited the   
Captain to sit down.   
  
"Gentlemen, is there something wrong?" she asked not trying to  
anticipate the worst from her two medical officers. She saw Tom  
leaning against the window. She could see his fatigue despite  
his professional mask well in place. She knew they had asked a   
lot out of him the last few weeks. He was Voyager best pilot,  
and they also needed his medical knowledge to help in Sickbay.   
She gave the Lieutenant a quick smile before turning her  
attention to The Doctor.  
  
"Well, Captain, Mr. Paris is seriously ill," the Doctor informed  
her.   
  
"Ill, Doctor?" she asked looking back at Tom, worried now. "Yes,  
Captain, leukemia."  
  
"Leukemia?" Captain Janeway echoed puzzled. "I thought cancer  
was no longer a problem. Why is it in Tom's case?" Her gaze   
shifted from Paris to The Doctor.  
  
"The scans we performed show that the cancerous cells are  
multiplying rapidity. Furthermore, I've already tried bentazine  
which should act like a vaccine, treating the cancer like a  
virus. There has been no conclusive response."  
  
"Do you have any idea what might have triggered it?"  
  
"It's my belief that Mr. Paris' close encounter with Steph might  
have reactivated the dormant cancerous gene in his system."  
  
"Captain," Tom took a quick breath before continuing, "part of  
the problem is that *we* can't identify the cancerous gene. To   
that extent, it could be multi genic. This is a relapse. It's  
the third time I'm facing leukemia. The first time, I had it at  
the end of my second year at the academy and the second time was  
a little over six years ago."  
  
"Lieutenant, you told me that there was no record of this because  
you were not in Starfleet at the time," the Doctor pointed out,  
visually annoyed.  
  
"True, for the decytologenesis treatment."  
  
"Decytologenesis?" the Captain repeated surprised.  
"Decytologenesis is a reconstruction of the cellular DNA? How  
did they keep it from attacking not targeting cells?"  
  
"Well, that's the major problem with that treatment. It can get  
pretty nasty," Tom said not looking directly at her. "Frankly, I  
don't remember much about all those procedures, but just enough  
to freak out just to think about them. It was a do-or-die   
situation."  
  
She was intensely looking at him while he was speaking. She did  
not really know what to think. She felt like she needed to size  
him up once again. She tried to picture him so sick at one time.  
The cure being worse than the disease itself. Then she  
remembered the defiant, arrogant young man she had met in prison,   
back in New Zealand. And now, she was facing an officer with  
whom she had been working with every day since their arrival in  
the Delta Quadrant. Someone who kept giving his best with so much   
professionalism and with a special little sparkle no one else  
had. Until now, she never had understood his need to rush through  
every situation, to rush through life like if . . . like there  
would be no tomorrow . . .   
  
"If you were at the Academy when you had your first leukemia,   
why isn't there any record?" She asked coming back to the problem  
at hand.   
  
Tom looked at her embarrassed. He blushed. His skin was so pale,  
she almost missed it.  
  
"I didn't want my father to know," he replied.  
  
Janeway's heart sank.   
  
"I mean . . . Dad was still coping with having been captured and  
tortured by the Cardassians. If he could pull through that, so  
could I. I was going to be fine, there was no reason for him to  
know. It would just had hurt him more." Tom let out a deep  
breath. "At least that was the way I figured things at the time.  
I talked this through with family and a few friends, and it  
became one of Starfleet's best kept secrets," he finally said  
shrugging probably at the irony.  
  
"You never told him?" Janeway asked in a soft voice.  
  
"No."  
  
She passed in review what she knew about Tom Paris' life once  
again. She suddenly got up to her feet and came closer to him.   
She put her hands on his shoulders and held up his gaze.  
  
"Tom, I know you and your father didn't get along too well. But,  
*tell me* that you weren't alone when you underwent this  
decytologenesis."  
  
He gave her a warm, sad smile that virtually brought his face  
back to life.  
  
"No Captain, I wasn't," he whispered. "I would never have had  
the courage or the strength to go through that if I would have   
been alone. There would have been no point in fighting in the   
first place. I miss those people so much right now."  
  
She looked more deeply into those clear blue eyes of his.  
  
"Well, you are not alone here either."  
  
"I know." He put a hand on her shoulder to return the comforting  
gesture. "Thank you."  
  
Janeway turned to The Doctor. "What's ahead? If the bentazine  
treatment doesn't work, what else can be done?"  
  
"Just to make something clear here," Tom said before the EMH  
could respond, "I don't want to go through any kind of treatment   
as excessive and intensive as decytologenesis again, even if it's   
the only chance I have. I want to bring the damn thing back in   
remission, but no more . . . "cell searching" experiments to   
identify the cancerous gene. It's been too painful and pointless   
in the long run. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," the Captain whispered back.  
  
"Still, by doing some blood work I can do some "cell searching"  
like you say without being painful. For possible treatments, at  
this point I'm considering using the nanoprobes and/or the good  
old method; chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant. The fact   
that the diagnosis has been made early gives us a considerable  
advantage. In order for the transplant to be successful, we'll  
have to eradicate the present cancerous cells first. Mr. Paris'   
immune system will be highly affected and prone to infections.   
So, during the therapy we should limit his movements through the   
ship."  
  
"You're not confining me to quarters, are you Doc?"  
  
"It is in your best interest, Mr. Paris. I shutter at the thought  
of the microbes you could be affected by, especially in Mr.  
Neelix's kitchen."  
  
Tom shrugged and said: "That's a cheap shot, not that I can't do  
without Neelix's cooking. Seems Captain that you'll be short a  
pilot for a while."  
  
"And me a medical assistant," the Doctor pointed out.  
  
"Just for a while, Tom," Janeway told him. "You see, we can't  
afford not having you around for too long. So, you put all your  
energy at getting your health back."  
  
"Captain, I don't intend to let it win. I can fight as dirty as  
it can, I assure you. Could I speak to B'Elanna and Harry before   
any of this gets out? I don't want them to hear it from somebody  
else than me."   
  
***  
  
"You weren't beside me when I woke up this morning," B'Elanna  
Torres told Tom as she let herself be pulled into his embrace the  
moment she entered his quarters. "Is something wrong?"  
  
He gave her a quick smile but his solemn expression confused her.   
She had rarely seen that side of him. Without saying anything,  
She followed Tom to the coach and sat beside him.   
  
"Remember yesterday, I told you that I wasn't feeling too well?"   
He waited for her to nod. "I went to see the Doctor about it this  
morning," he inhaled and licked his dry lips. "We discovered that   
I have leukemia."   
  
As Tom went through his explanation, B'Elanna got closer to him  
and held him against her. She never wanted to let him go. Tom   
was scared. He told her so. She was also scared for him and of   
losing him. B'Elanna remembered her disappointment at waking up   
alone this morning. The thought of no longer having him beside   
her every morning was just unbearable. She could not lose the man   
she loved. The half-Human/half-Klingon woman was sad, scared, and   
angry. She wanted to be angry and fight this monster. But, she   
could not do so. What kind of battle could she wage?  
  
"You have to fight this, you hear me?" she told him forcefully.   
  
"I'll try as long as the Klingon in you stands beside me." He  
smiled and kissed her tenderly.  
  
They fell silent for a moment, content to hold on to each other.  
  
"What was I thinking? Passing all that time in the holodeck,  
working on that car, instead of being with you . . . "  
  
"You know Tom, it still wouldn't be presumptuous of you to think  
that there's a future in our relationship, because I do."  
  
"Could this be an incentive?" he asked, humour in his voice.  
  
"Could be."  
  
"It's something I'm looking forward too."  
  
"I know, I do."  
  
***  
  
"So, what does this mean? What will happen?" Harry Kim asked  
after Tom dropped his bomb on his best friend.  
  
"The Doctor and I both agreed on a bone marrow transplant. We  
thought of using the nanoprobes but they don't recognize all of  
the cancerous cells. So first, I'll have to go through some  
chemotherapy to destroy the cancerous cells. If everything goes  
well, I should be able to undergo the transplant in six or seven  
days. The worse part is going to be the chemo. It makes you sick  
as hell. It burns under your skin and it turns you upside-down,  
and . . . " Tom let the sentence drop with a sigh and looked  
away not being able to look his friend in the eye.  
  
Harry just couldn't believe everything his friend had told him.  
Tom had walked onto bridge about a half-hour earlier and asked   
Harry to follow him into the conference lounge. Harry's puzzled   
gaze had met Tuvok's suspicious one which had drawn a smile from   
the Ensign. Well, Harry was not smiling now. He was struggling   
very hard to keep his composure.   
  
"Harry, for crying out loud don't make that face," Tom said on a   
light tone. "I didn't pronounce a death sentence, here."   
  
That was just like Tom to try to be supportive in his own strange  
way when Harry felt he was the one who should be. "After the  
transplant, you'll be okay, right?"  
  
"Well . . . If it goes back in remission, yeah"  
  
"What about the gene? Do you think the Doctor can find it?"  
Harry asked hopefully.  
  
"I don't know. I don't have any unrealistic expectations about   
that anymore. Right now, I would settle for a remission."   
  
The two men stayed silent for a while before Harry could look up  
at Tom.  
  
"You are my best friend. You can ask anything. I'll be here,"  
he said.  
  
"I didn't even have to ask. Thanks, Harry."  
  
***  
  
"Harry, how is he?" B'Elanna asked, as she entered in Tom's  
quarters a few days later.  
  
"Finally sleeping. Oh, B'Elanna, Tom tried to prepare me to the  
effects the chemotherapy would have on him. Even after the first  
two treatments I couldn't imagine it would make him so sick. He's  
been throwing up all morning."  
  
"I know Harry, he tried to prepare me too. The Doctor says that  
the treatment is working, at least. The cancerous cells are  
being destroyed. It's a matter of time now before he can perform   
the transplant. There is a good chance it will be successful. So,  
until then, Tom needs us to be strong."  
  
"I know. Did the Doctor find a suitable donor for the bone  
marrow?"   
  
"Suitable yes, in fact more than one, but there is no one on  
board with a 'perfect' match. His chances are good, but not  
excellent."  
  
"We already knew that, didn't we?" Harry replied not willing to  
look to B'Elanna.  
  
"I'm hoping for more, Harry."  
  
***  
  
Tom woke up with a headache. What else was new? He could still  
feel the burning sensation of all those chemicals under his skin,  
and his chest was just so heavy. It was getting harder to  
breathe every day. He thought of just lying there, then again   
maybe not. He would just get even more uncomfortable as the time   
passed. He might as well try to salvage the remainder of the day.  
  
He came out of his bedroom expecting to find B'Elanna or Harry.   
He was surprised to find Captain Janeway instead, working at his  
desk terminal.   
  
"Captain?" His voice was harsh and weak. Tom bit his lower lip,  
reprimanding himself. God, he didn't want her to see him like  
this. Then again, what was the point of trying to pretend that  
everything was normal. It had not been in the last couple of   
days, and it definitely would not get better overnight.  
  
***  
  
Janeway turned smiling when she heard Tom's voice. He was  
standing there in the entrance of his bedroom looking at her,   
surprised to see her there.   
  
"I ordered Harry and B'Elanna to rest," she told him on a light  
friendly tone as she was getting to her feet. "Come and sit  
down. Can I get you anything? You *do* need to eat something."  
  
"Some water would be good, for now."  
  
She came back from the replicator with two glasses of water and  
Sat beside him on the sofa. Tom was wearing a large dark green  
Sweater with long sleeves that would normally make him look   
bigger, but she could tell that he was already starting to lose   
weight. She also knew that those long sleeves were hiding all the   
bruises that were the result of the fight that was going on  
inside his body. His visible fatigue, pale skin, red eyes, and   
respiratory difficulties were also the effects of all the poison   
they kept feeding him in order to kill the cancerous cells. Why   
couldn't there be an easier way?   
  
"I have been asking a lot from B'Elanna and Harry lately, haven't  
I?" he asked her, slightly embarrassed of the effect he was  
having on her senior staff.  
  
"We are your friends, Tom. More than that, we're a family.  
That's what a family does, it sticks together in sickness and in  
health."  
  
"Does it really?" he asked unwilling to look at her.  
  
"Well this one does," she assured him. If she only knew what he  
really had gone through, it would be so much easier. Finally,  
after some careful thinking, she decided to ask him about it.   
What would be the worst thing that could happened? That he'd   
refuse to answer her questions? Or, that he'd do so by some cocky   
comment or a bad joke like he did with Harry all the time? That   
he'd get angry with her? Whatever way, she wanted a reaction.   
She wanted to know in order to understand him. "How did you  
manage to keep this a secret from you parents?"  
  
"I look that bad?" he asked with a smile. He held her gaze for a  
few seconds and his smile faded away as he looked to the floor.  
"For them to notice, they would have had to be there. Dad, he  
hardly was there before he was tortured by the Cardassians. He  
was always at Starfleet Command, the Academy, or on one mission  
or another. And when he came back . . . " his voice dropped to  
a whisper. "He came back . . . haunted."  
  
"I know," Janeway said in a soft voice as she allowed the  
memories to surface. "He kept his demeanor, but his eyes betrayed   
him."  
  
For the first time, Tom really looked at her and gave her a warm  
smile. Was he comforting her? That was not the reaction she  
intended to receive.   
  
"He couldn't help me, he could barely help himself. And mother,  
she is also someone who is very dedicated to her work, and me, I  
had my courses at the Academy and plenty of social activities.   
So, even though we were living in the same house, but we were not  
seeing each other that much. When things got rough, when I  
couldn't hide my illness any longer, I went to live with my older  
sister in Marseilles. See, I was not alone," he said with a  
smile, trying to reassure her again. Then he laughed before   
saying. "And, I had found Sandrine a few months earlier. She gave   
me a lot of support."  
  
"I heard you found her bar after you got rob . . . "  
  
He smiled at the memory. Before giving more explanation on that  
tale, he extended his arm to pick his glass of water on the table  
in front of them. A wave of pain suddenly washed through him and  
Tom's expression changed to total shock as he saw the glass drop  
from his cramped fingers and crashed on the floor. He bent  
forward, his chest on his lap, gasping for air, and shaking  
vigorously.  
  
Janeway quickly put her arms around his shoulders to give him  
support before getting to her feet and coming back with the  
hypospray of painkillers that B'Elanna had left on his bedside  
table.   
  
"Hang in there, Tom, This will take a few seconds," she told him.  
Janeway pressed the medical instrument against his neck. She  
Held his shoulders once again, waiting for the medicine to take   
its affect, which was not coming soon enough.  
  
"It's . . . It's not working . . . " he hissed between two  
breaths.  
  
"I'll ask the Doctor to give you something stronger."   
  
"No . . . no." He took another quick painful breath. "It has to  
do."  
  
"Why?" In her right mind, she could not understand why he had to  
go through so much pain in the first place.   
  
"My body . . . It's getting use to the painkillers. W. . . when  
. . . When the pain gets worst . . . " He sucked in anther  
breath before going on, but Janeway already knew what he was  
about to say. "I'll need something stronger."  
  
*When the pain gets worse,* echoed in Janeway's mind. She held  
Tom's body tighter and encouraged him to keep taking deep  
breaths. There were nothing else she could. She was feeling so   
damn helpless. She bit her lower lip as she thought of the next   
few days. One or two other chemo treatments and Tom should be   
able to have his bone marrow transplant. It had to work. As his   
pain finally lessened, Janeway pulled up the young man beside  
her, allowing him to lean against her shoulder. He was so  
exhausted, he offered no resistance. For the first time, she  
noticed how thin his hair was getting. *Another side effect,* she  
thought. Gently, she wiped away the tears from his pale face.   
*Just keep going, Tom. We're with you.*  
  
***  
  
The following four days just when from bad to worse. Tom's  
cancer was fighting back, forcing the Doctor to be more  
aggressive with his chemo therapy and bringing Tom closer to  
death a little more every day. The constant problem was the  
cancerous gene, still undiscovered, that kept being stimulated.   
The Doctor could finally understand why his colleagues had tried  
decytologenesis in the past. But, it was out the question, now.   
After a profound analysis, even if they had had the proper  
technology on board, which was not the case, he would not have  
considered performing such a treatment on someone who had already  
had one previously. Furthermore, the patient himself was against  
it. Who could blame him?  
  
The Doctor found himself at a loss. It was difficult for him to  
put a patient through so much pain even if it was the only thing  
to do. Still, he had vowed that he would do no harm . . . Tom  
Paris was not any other patient, either. He probably had been his   
most frequent patient over the last four years. Trouble always   
seemed to find him on top of which he was a risk taker. It   
usually Tom brought back to Sickbay at one point or another. His  
*hazardous* relationship with Lieutenant Torres was also worth  
mentioning. Now that Paris was his assistant, the Doctor had  
learned to work with him and to appreciate him as a friend. Tom  
had considered him as a friend longer than he had. Both of them  
were developing an odd friendship, but still . . . and the Doctor  
had already lost an important friend when Kes had left. He could  
not afford to lose this one, could he? So, he vowed once again  
that he would do everything in his power to bring *his* friend  
back to health.  
  
***  
  
The door of Captain Janeway's ready room opened revealing her  
First Officer. She was sitting on her sofa at the far end of the   
room. She was wearing a thoughtful expression on her face, and  
the PADD she was holding was barely hanging through her fingers.   
  
"Something wrong, Chakotay?" she asked.  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing. Are you alright? You  
have been distant and distracted all day." He sat down next her   
at her invitation.  
  
"I exchanged a few words with B'Elanna before the morning  
briefing about Tom. He's going through so much pain. We are   
afraid of losing him . . . " She sighed and brought her gaze to   
the field of stars on the other side of the window. "I just  
ended up missing him so badly today. I would give anything to  
hear him crack a joke even on the bridge, especially on the  
bridge."  
  
"The bridge can get awfully quiet when he's not around. I have to  
admit that I miss him too. Strange how you realize you take  
something or someone for granted when they are no longer there."   
  
"I know what you mean, Chakotay, but he is not gone yet. I  
intend to give him as much support as I can, even if I'm the   
Captain. I'll prove him wrong."  
  
"Prove him wrong?" echoed Chakotay puzzled.  
  
She sighed again. She had done that often today. "The other  
day, he told me it was strange to have his Captain around like   
this. That was just not the way he had been raised -- for that   
matter, both of us. We are both children of admirals. We have to   
follow the hierarchy, honour the chain of command, and not   
derogate from protocol. Never get close or emotional, we are   
after all *Starfleet officers*." She gave a strange emphasis on   
the her last sentence.   
  
Chakotay felt that something, in the conversation she had had  
with Tom, had hurt her. The truth. He just waited for her to   
break the silence again.  
  
"But, this crew is not functioning under normal circumstances,  
and we can only count on each other. Tom is not only my junior  
officer, he's my friend, and is part of this family. How did you  
refer to him once . . . as 'my personal reclamation project?'   
You are right, I have a soft spot for him. He came such long way  
since he first walked on this ship. I'm going to prove to him   
that a family can stick together in sickness *and* in health."  
  
"That shouldn't be too hard to prove, because this family does  
stick together. We proved that to ourselves a long time ago."  
  
Janeway looked at him visually glad.  
  
"We know that, Chakotay, but I can't blame him for having doubts.  
I only wish I knew more about him. He's been through so much and  
I have the feeling that we don't know half of it. I read the  
report the Doctor gave me concerning decytologenesis. It's hard  
to believe that doctors would actually perform such treatments...   
Surely it must have taken a long time for his body to recover.   
You never notice anything when he joined the Maquis?"  
  
"No. He was hanging out in bars, getting drunk, and into  
trouble. Now, I don't know what to think. He is no longer whom I   
thought he was. He'll get through this, Kathryn. We'll help him   
get through this, as a family." He gave her a gentle squeeze on   
her forearm. Then, he got to his feet and left her alone again.  
  
***  
  
Tom was glad it was the night shift so that his little stroll  
around the ship hadn't been noticed. He felt like a kid who had  
skipped out of the house, while his parents were asleep, to go  
partying. If he had been in better shape, he might have enjoyed  
this. Then again, he would not be doing this. At least, he  
wouldn't go to the same place. He arrived at his destination and  
rang the chime of the door which opened revealing Lt-Commander  
Tuvok. Yeah, B'Elanna would have been better company. But  
tonight, Tom needed a kind of help the woman he loved couldn't  
provide.  
  
"Mr. Paris. It is late. What are you doing here?"  
  
"It's nice to see you too, Tuvok. I know it's the end of your  
shift and that you're probably tired, but may I come in?" Paris  
asked.   
  
"Yes. May I remind you, Mr. Paris, that you should not leave  
your quarters in your present physical condition," Tuvok said,   
guiding him to the sofa.  
  
"I won't tell, if you don't." Tom sat there silent for a few  
minutes, allowing his strength to build up again. "Tuvok, I need  
your help."  
  
"Why not ask me to your quarters?"  
  
"My place is too crowded now that Harry has claimed my coach and  
B'Elanna the other side of my bed, not that I'm complaining too  
much about that. Although tonight . . . " He took a deep breath  
before going on. "When I was on Vulcan, my friend Semak used to  
help me to find the center of my pain, isolate it, and make it go  
away for a while. I can't do it alone anymore. The pain is too  
bad, it distracts me. Can you help me isolate it?"  
  
"Yes, that is something I can do to help you. I am honored that  
you are asking my assistance."  
  
"I trust you, Tuvok. You're my friend. I'm just sorry that I   
have to put this strain on you too."  
  
"There is no need to be sorry, Mr. Paris," the Vulcan assured  
him. "Now, sit comfortably. Close your eyes and take deep   
breaths. Relax your body as much as you can."  
  
Tuvok sat down in front of Tom and placed his hands around his  
face in a mind-meld fashion. Tom felt the link that Tuvok   
established with his thoughts. It was just strong enough to  
guide him toward all the sources of his pain and help him to  
gather it all together in a simple source.   
  
Tuvok fought his discomfort. Not allowing Tom's pain to  
overwhelm him. He could also distinguish Tom's fatigue, his  
fear, and his strength. It was like meeting an old friend and a  
new one a the same time. Then, he experienced briefly one of  
Tom's memories, of him being guided by another Vulcan. Semak.   
And Tuvok followed the path Semak had led ahead. He drew in all  
the negative energy into a bubble that levitated higher and  
higher until it completely disappeared. Tuvok gathered his own  
energy and transferred some of it to Tom, giving him a little  
more strength to rely on. Then, he gently severed the link   
between them.   
  
Tom just stayed there without moving, savoring the peace of mind  
he had been seeking. He hadn't felt so calm and rested in a long  
time. *Better enjoy it while it lasted*, he told himself.  
  
"Thank you Tuvok," Tom said sincerely.  
  
"The honor was mine. I must tell you that I have never seen a  
human achieve such a level of control over pain before."  
  
"Well," Tom began. He was about to let out a crack at the  
Vulcan's expense, sometimes it was just too irresistible, but not   
tonight. That wouldn't have been a good way to honor the gift   
Tuvok had just gave him. He finally said: "I had a good  
teacher."  
  
"I had the impression that he also was a good friend to you."   
  
"He was. I hope he still is." Tom smiled. "I really should get  
going before B'Elanna notices that I'm gone and wakes up the  
entire ship."  
  
"That would be wise. Do you need any assistance going back to  
your quarters?"  
  
"No thanks, Tuvok. I'll be fine now."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
Tom returned to his quarters leaving a perplexed Vulcan behind.  
Tuvok did not consider himself troubled, but he had to admit that  
Tom Paris's pain had not left him indifferent.  
  
***  
  
Tom was feeling well the next day. His little seance with Tuvok,  
the previous night had energized him. He seized the opportunity  
to assist the Doctor in Sickbay. He had also talked the Captain   
in letting him take the helm for two hours. At least, he felt   
like he had accomplished something.  
  
At the end of their shift, B'Elanna, Harry and Captain Janeway  
had supper with him. Later on, Chakotay and Nelix had joined  
them in his quarters. Together, they ll had a great evening,  
sharing old stories and memories, and talking about the latest  
gossips around the ship. Finally, Tom and B'Elanna were left  
alone.   
  
She joined him in bed and laid at his side resting her head on  
his shoulder. She felt his hand move along her back in a loving  
manner, but not passionate. His touch was as gentle and strong as  
always, but not as assured or inviting. She raised her head to  
face his loving blue eyes.  
  
"You still have some of that new found energy for me?" she asked.  
  
"I might, just for you."  
  
B'Elanna moved even closer to his slim body. Her hand found its  
way under his T-shirt and moved along his waist up to his chest.  
She could feel each one of his ribs. God, he was thin.   
  
"What's wrong," he asked, realizing that the look in her eyes had  
changed.  
  
"I'm . . . I'm afraid to hurt you," she admitted shyly.  
  
"Don't be, you can't do anything worse that what the Doctor has  
already done. And he doesn't look half as good as you do," Tom  
said with a smirk. B'Elanna didn't seem very convinced, so Tom   
added: "If you do hurt me, I'll tell you, Okay?"  
  
"Okay," she answered a little more reassured, but not much.  
  
"Good, now where were we?"  
  
They started to kiss. In the process, their nightwear came off.  
B'Elanna paused for a second when she saw all the bruises on  
Tom's body.  
  
"Don't mind them," he told her. "I bruise in my sleep. The Doc  
gave me a small regenerator to heal them." Then a mischievous   
smile ran over his lips. "How about if you help me make them go   
away?"  
  
He pulled out the small instrument from his night stand drawer.  
B'Elanna took it and started to run it over the bruises while Tom  
was kissing her. After a while, the regenerator was forgotten and  
they just laid there, caressing and touching each other. B'Elanna  
could tell that her lover was getting tired.   
  
"You should sleep, now," she told him.  
  
"Hold me closer," Tom said.  
  
B'Elanna took him in her arms and cradled him like a little  
child. In seconds, she heard the soft snoring that was synonymous   
with his sleep The sound rapidly lulled her off, too.  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna woke up with a hint of fear. She had fallen asleep, her  
body wrapped around Tom's, and the sudden stiffness in her mate's  
body had brought her back to consciousness. He was trembling and   
his breaths were harsh and painful. Quickly, but with extreme  
gentleness, she loosened herself from him.  
  
"Tom?" she whispered. "You should have woke me. Computer, lights  
25%."  
  
His eyes flew open but remained unfocused. B'Elanna rolled away  
and grabbed the hypospray and a wet tissue from the bedside  
table. She pressed the hypo on the side of his neck then put it   
aside. She shifted position. Sitting on her knees, she bent  
toward Tom and pulled him upright, putting his head on her  
shoulder. She held him tight against her and rubbed his back  
vigorously.  
  
"Keep taking deep breaths. It's going to be all right, Tom. Hold  
on."  
  
Slowly his trembling faded into a shiver. B'Elanna placed his  
pillows in a more comfortable position and guided him back to a  
laying position. With the tissue, she wiped his face from the  
tears and sweat that were still running down his tired features.   
Tom's gaze finally focused on her, but before he could speak, she   
put a finger on his lips.   
  
"Sshh," she murmured. "Don't say anything. Close your eyes. Go  
back to sleep."  
  
Tom closed his eyes as she said. In a matter of minutes, sleep  
claimed him once again, to B'Elanna's relief. She laid back  
beside him, with some distance this time, but allowing one hand  
to rest on his chest, as a reassurance of some sort.  
  
"Stay with me, my love."  
  
***  
  
"Harry, will you stop that!" Tom yelled at his best friend, who  
stopped in his tracks, taken aback by his friend sudden change  
of mood. "If I need something, I'll tell you, okay? Why don't  
you go do something with yourself, and leave me alone for a  
while?"  
  
"I promised B'Elanna I'd stay with you. And, *I* don't want to  
leave you."  
  
"Harry, I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself, " Tom argued  
still angry. "Why can't you people understand that?"  
"We just want to take care of you for once. Why can't *you* let  
us help, you're sick. It's so hard for us to see you like this,   
it . . . it hurts. And, and I hate it when you joke about this.   
Your condition is not a joke."  
  
"Well, it sure feels like one to me," Tom spat back. At Harry's  
wounded expression, he lashed out: "Harry, what the hell do you  
want me to tell you?! That I feel that this thing does it on  
purpose. That I think it's unfair that each time things start to  
go well for me, it comes back. After everything I did to turn my  
life around, I don't want to die, Harry. I don't want to die of  
cancer. This is one lousy way to die."  
  
"Last time I checked, there was no good way to die," Harry said  
dead serious.  
  
"I can think of a few. At least I have my preferences -- a quick  
death, in battle, or flying, would be a lot better, and more  
honorable."  
  
Harry chuckled. "Sounds like I'm hearing B'Elanna talking."  
  
"So, I got something from the Klingons," Tom told him cracking a  
smile of his own. "You got to admit that a little honor doesn't  
hurt anyone."  
  
"I'm your friend, Tom. Talk to me," Harry said coming to sit  
beside him on the sofa.  
  
"Harry," Tom sighed. "Been there, done that."  
  
"Not me, not B'Elanna. It's a first for us. We need to know how   
you feel, to . . . to validate our own feelings, I guess."  
  
Tom passed his hand through his short blond hair. He sighed  
heavily at the sight of the hair that remained in his hand.  
  
"I still hate this . . . losing my hair, the bruising, my  
fingernails flecking off, throwing up all the time. My chest is  
so heavy, and I'm tired all the time, even when I sleep all day.   
I hate it that you guys see me like this. B'Elanna is so afraid   
to hurt me, she barely touches me anymore. Okay, I might not be  
up to Klingon love making, but I'm not made of glass, Harry. I  
won't break." He looked at his best friend straight in the eye.  
"It's good to have you here, all of you. I feel really lucky  
about that, but I don't need to be overprotected. I need to be  
myself, to feel a little bit normal, and joking helps me deal  
with tough situations. You know that."  
  
"I do. I'm sorry. But, what can I do? Because, I'm not  
leaving, otherwise I will have to answer to an angry half-Klingon   
who also tends to be a little overprotective . . . "  
  
"*A little*, he says," Tom replied in mock disbelief. "Harry, why  
don't you go get your clarinet? Hearing you play, always make us  
feel better."  
  
"That sounds good to me," the younger man said smiling.  
  
***  
  
Commander Chakotay walked into Engineering. Except for the hum  
of the warp core, it was dead silence. There wasn't a crew  
member to be seen. Then he heard something that sounded like  
someone was tearing the ship apart. Around the corner, he found  
B'Elanna kicking the life out of a console.  
  
"You know, if you hit it long enough like that, you'll have to  
fix it," he pointed out.   
  
B'Elanna almost jumped out of her skin. She turned toward the  
First Officer like a viper ready to strike. Chakotay stepped back   
a little.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she yelled at him.  
  
Reports had been right. When the chief engineer was in a bad  
mood, she wasn't half way.   
  
"I came to see you," he started cautiously. "I've got seventeen  
demands for transfer this morning, and they all came from   
Engineering. Seven even refuses to come down here. Do you mind   
telling me what's   
going on?"  
  
"Going on?! They're all incompetents. They couldn't tell the  
difference between a plasma conduit and a tricorder even if they  
had a technical manual in their hands," B'Elanna spat.  
  
"They weren't that incompetent on the last crew evaluation. I  
have reason to believe that the problem is with the Chief   
Engineer," said Chakotay gently.  
  
B'Elanna started to say something to that, but stopped short when  
Chakotay put up his hand.  
  
"I know that you're worried about Tom. We all are. But taking it  
out on the crew won't do anyone any good. Come on, you are  
relieved from duty for the time being."  
  
"But . . . but I"  
  
"No buts about it. You're coming with me. We'll get something to  
eat and talk this over," said Chakotay.  
  
As they left Engineering, the Commander could have sworn that the  
crew had came back to man the stations.   
  
"Don't anyone touch that one," B'Elanna yelled at them pointing  
at the console. "I broke it, I'll fix it."  
  
They left engineering for her quarters where they replicated  
themselves something to eat. B'Elanna sat on the couch, while  
Chakotay pulled a chair and sat in front of her. He waited until  
she calmed down and was ready to talk to him.  
  
"I'm so angry," she simply said after a while.  
  
"I gathered as much," he replied teasingly.  
  
"The Doctor confined him to Sickbay this morning," she went on.  
  
Chakotay, didn't say anything, he just waited for her to go on.  
  
"He was doing fine two days ago. It was almost as if he was  
healthy again. We talked about so much that evening. He told me  
stuff."  
  
"Stuff?"  
  
"Things about him nobody knows, well almost. And now . . . "  
  
"And now what?" Chakotay pressed on.  
  
"And now the Doctor won't even let me see him! He kicked me out  
this morning, and told me not to come back. He said that I was  
bad for Tom! How can I be bad for Tom? I love him!" B'Elanna  
was near tears. "Being so far from him, it's like I'm losing  
him."  
  
Chakotay got up and walked over to her. He took her in his arms,  
like a father would with a frightened child. He held her for as  
long as she cried. When the sobbing changed to an occasional  
sniffle he pulled back.  
  
"I'll have a word with the Doctor and see what I can do, okay?   
If he lets me, I'll go see Tom and tell him that you miss him,"  
he suggested.   
  
B'Elanna smiled at him. It was a small one hiding a lot of pain,  
but it was a smile.  
  
"Now," Chakotay added a little more sternly, "if you promise not  
break anything else and treat your crew in a more Starfleet  
manner, you can return to duty."  
  
"Thanks, Chakotay. I needed that," she said in her most civil  
tone all day.  
  
"I know."  
  
He gave her a last hug and left.  
  
***  
  
Chakotay entered in Sickbay. Tom was laying still on one of the  
biobeds, still coping with the effects of the chemo treatment he  
had received that morning. Chakotay met the Doctor in the   
physician's office.   
  
"Doctor, how's Tom?"  
  
"I'm glad to report that the last treatment has been very  
successful and that most of the remaining cancerous cells have  
been irradiated. Unfortunately, it has left Mr. Paris exhausted   
and extremely vulnerable to infections."  
  
"I was with B'Elanna a few minutes ago, and she is quite  
distraught over not being able to see Tom."  
  
"As I just said Commander, Tom is very susceptible to infections  
at this moment. We can't risk his health."  
  
"Do you think we could see him just the same? Just for a minute?   
I told B'Elanna I would check on him. And I brought him a little  
something."  
  
"I can see that," the Doctor said. "Normally, I would say no,  
but he needs all the *quiet* support he can get, right now.  
You'll have to go through a disinfecting field first and wear a  
mask."  
  
"That's okay," said Chakotay. "When will you perform the  
transplant?" he asked.  
  
"Tomorrow morning, if they are no complications. I want to build  
back his stamina first. Now, come over here please for the  
decontamination."  
  
"Yes, Doctor."   
  
Chakotay followed the instructions of the Doctor and crossed the  
field that was separating the surgical bay from the rest on  
Sickbay, protecting Paris from the rest of the world. The  
Commander approached Tom's bed. Good thing that the young man  
Had his eyes closed, because Chakotay could not hide his sadden  
expression. He was not as prepared as he thought himself to be.   
B'Elanna, Harry and Kathryn had told him the effects the chemo  
Had on Tom's body. He had seen the young man's condition   
deteriorate over the last week. But, Chakotay hadn't seen Tom   
himself so soon after a treatment. He never thought someone so   
pale could possibly be still alive.   
  
He came to sit on a seat next to the bed. Tom was shivering.  
They had called it the Cosmic Breath. Chakotay almost found  
Himself shivering, too. He waited in silence, not wanting to  
disturb him. He was about to go and leave his present behind,  
promising to come back later to explain, when Tom's gaze flew  
over him.  
  
"Hi there," the Commander greeted.  
  
"Chakotay," Tom voice was weak, raw, barely audible. "Nice of  
you to drop by. You're alright?"  
  
"Yes, I'm alright," he whispered. Somehow Chakotay felt more at  
ease -- more welcome. With Tom, he never knew how to react. "I  
told B'Elanna that I would check on you. And I brought you   
something."  
  
Tom saw him take something from a piece of cloth. His attention  
was shifting in and out of focus, but he was hanging in. Chakotay  
made a mental note to hurry up.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"It's something from my tribe: a river stone. It's a little  
something to hold on to," Chakotay explained. He gently placed  
the stone in Tom's cold hand.   
  
"Like what? An anchor? . . . " Tom voice trailed off at his idea.   
  
"It's whatever you need it to be. An anchor seems good to me,"  
Chakotay said. He was reassured and happy that Tom was taking  
His gift that way.  
  
"Thanks. That's very thoughtful," said Tom sincerely.  
  
"I didn't know if you would like it," Chakotay admitted.  
  
"Oh . . . Why? It's part of who you are, your people. It's  
nice."  
  
"Thanks." Chakotay smiled at the compliment. "You know,  
sometimes I just can't figure you out. I bet you love that. I   
promised the Doctor I wouldn't stay too long." He lowered his   
voice and finished. "Now, rest. I've got to go and report to a   
certain Chief Engineer before she kills somebody."  
  
"Okay," Tom whispered with a faint smile on his lips.  
  
Chakotay got to his feet, but stayed near until Tom closed his  
Eyes and fell asleep once again.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, the Doctor finally made the preparations for  
the bone marrow. He removed some from the donor, Ensign Dreck.   
The next step was to implement it into Lieutenant Paris' system.   
He had decided to sedate his patient for this procedure. There  
was no reason to put him into more painful discomfort. But  
first, he had to clear his Sickbay of the crowd that had gathered  
around Tom. H was in a sitting position supported by B'Elanna. On  
the other Side of the force field, Captain Janeway, Commander   
Chakotay, Ensigns Kim and Wildman were softly chatting with him.  
  
"I'm ready to proceed. So, it's time for all of you to leave,  
except for Ensign Wildman, of course," he informed.  
  
"Of course, Doctor" the Captain said. "Tom, we will see you when  
you wake up."   
  
"I'll be fine. Got my anchor with me," Tom said, showing the  
stone he kept holding and exchanging a smile with Chakotay.  
  
"Keep holding on to that," Harry told him. "We will see you  
later."  
  
They walked away, leaving Tom and B'Elanna alone for a few  
minutes. She got off the bed and faced him.  
  
"Don't worry," Tom said. "This is quite an easy procedure and I  
won't feel a thing."  
  
"I know, Tom. The Doctor already explained everything to me.  
This is going to work. I'm sure of it. So, you show that thing   
How strong you are. Okay?"  
  
He laughed quietly. "I will, like a good Klingon."  
  
"Yeah, just like that," she whispered. "I love you, Tom."  
  
"I love you too, B'Elanna. I'm so lucky to have you."  
  
Despite her surgical mask, Tom could make out her smile. They  
Both fought the urge to hug and kiss each other. So, B'Elanna   
Took his hands and gave them a soft squeeze. She let go of him   
As Samantha Wildman joined them.  
  
"You're ready, Tom?"  
  
"Sure, Sam. It's now or never."  
  
B'Elanna helped him lie down on the biobed and Samantha pressed   
a hypospray to his neck. In a matter of seconds, Tom was sound  
asleep. The Doctor could finally go on with the transplant.  
  
***  
  
Tom had caught himself staring at his food again. It just wasn't  
appealing. Then again, even if it would have been, Tom doubted  
that he would have been interested. Food always was an issue for  
him. Oh, he loved eating as long as it was kept simple and that  
he knew what it was. Two criteria Neelix's cooking didn't meet   
most of the times. But, this wasn't coming out of the Talaxian's  
kitchen, so why did it bother him so much? Then again, the  
replicator had never made a plain tomato soup right.  
  
"What's wrong, Tom?" asked B'Elanna sitting beside him on his  
sofa.  
  
"Nothing really. I'm not hungry."  
  
"I know you're not, but you need to eat."  
  
"It's been more than a week. I'm still not hungry and I want to  
sleep all the time."  
  
She gently put her harm around his shoulders.   
  
"Give yourself some time, Tom. You told me yourself that it  
would take a few weeks to recover from both the chemo and the  
transplant. The Doctor told me as much."  
  
"I'm just so tired of being sick. It's such a waste of time."  
  
"You know what I think?" B'Elanna began. "I think you just don't  
like me playing doctor with you."  
  
"Oh? I certainly didn't complain about that," he replied with a  
smile. "Where did you get that idea?"  
  
"You don't let me take care of you! If you would let me play  
doctor, you would eat when I say so."  
  
"Why don't we go play in bed, instead?"  
  
"For you to fall asleep on me again? No way Paris."   
  
"Well you could fall asleep on me, that would be a change," he  
suggested. "You know, Torres, coming to think of it, I never had  
that excuse before. I'm that bad in bed?"  
  
"Tom, eat your soup."  
  
"Will I receive a reward if I do?" he asked looking at her from  
the corner of his eyes.   
  
"Would it make it more interesting?"  
  
"It might."  
  
"Well then, there could be a reward . . . " she came closer to  
him and kissed him on the lips. "First, you have to eat your   
soup."  
  
"Yes Doctor."  
  
It took a big fifteen minutes to get the soup down and a lot of  
patience on B'Elanna's behalf. For once, she thought that for the  
first time in weeks, they would go farther than a kiss. She knew  
that Tom wasn't up to the Klingon lovemaking yet, but she could  
take it slow and gently. She was half human after all!   
  
Tom looked up at his mate. He smiled at her and said: "Can I  
Have my reward, now?"  
  
"Well, I guess you can."  
  
She took his hand and they walked into his bedroom, that somehow  
had kind of become hers too. Once in the room B'Elanna gently  
pulled her hand out of Tom's. "I need to use the head," she   
explained. "I'll be here when you get back, I'll straighten the  
bed a little."  
  
"Do that. And I warn you; don't fall asleep."  
  
"Aye, doctor."  
  
When B'Elanna returned, less that five minutes later, dressed in  
a sexy nightdress, Tom's clothes were spread on the floor and he  
was under the covers, sound asleep.  
  
"I knew it!" B'Elanna growled under her breath.   
  
It was getting a little late anyway, so she decided to go to bed  
too. Maybe her nightgown would get Tom's attention when he woke  
up.   
  
***  
  
"Are you actually eating?" B'Elanna asked with disbelief as she  
came out of the bathroom. "I certainly caught your attention this  
morning, didn't I?..."  
  
"You certainly did," he replied mischievously.   
  
She came to him and gave him a loving kiss on his smiling lips.  
She sat on sofa beside him. A croissant and a steamy cup of   
coffee were waiting for her on the table.  
  
"Do you really feel like you're ready to go back to duty?  
Yesterday, you were still tired."  
  
"I feel fine. I'm still tired sometimes, but definitely fine.  
Going back to duty is just going to do me some good. If Doc  
declares me fit, I'm still going to be assigned to restrictive  
duties for a while anyway. Frankly, I can't wait."  
  
"I can see that. Just the idea of putting your fingers back on  
the helm makes you smile."  
  
Yep! the idea of flying Voyager again made Tom Paris smile. It  
Made him feel alive all the time. And these days, he had a lot  
of things worth living for. One of those was B'Elanna.   
  
***  
  
Tom Paris left Sickbay. He smiled at the few crew members that  
passed him in the corridor as he made his way to the turbolift.   
Once inside, he looked down at the floor, took a deep breath in  
order to keep his overwhelming emotions in check, and when his  
head came up again, his face was the perfect mask of composure.   
The doors of the lift opened again and Lieutenant Tom Paris  
walked Into the bridge. Everyone started to applaud and cheer  
the moment His presence was noticed. Tom smiled wildly, happily  
surprised. His eyes flew over the room and met Captain Kathryn  
Janeway's.  
  
"Tom Paris reporting to duty, Captain."  
  
"Welcome back, Tom," Janeway said warmly.  
  
"She's all yours, sir," Ensign Hamilton told him as she stepped  
aside and let him slide in her place. Tom sat down. His hands  
flew over the controls, making the connection once again. He  
quickly turned around and saw Janeway sit in her command chair.  
  
"Mr. Paris," she called, "resume our course for home, warp 6.  
  
"Aye, aye Captain. Course laid in."  
  
"Engage."  
  
Tom pushed the engage button and felt the ship surge forward.   
It felt good. In control. Free. Yeah, things were getting back   
to normal. As normal as it could be on Voyager, anyway. For  
now.  
  
***  
  
Chief Medical Officer's Log Stardate 50784.7  
  
I am glad to report that Mr. Paris's leukemia is once again in  
remission. The fact that the Lieutenant recognized the symptoms  
of the illness early on had tremendous impact on the success of   
the treatment. However, I've been unsuccessful at identifying the  
defective genes. Therefore, I expect the cancer to recur. I just  
hope than when it happens that we are back in the Alpha Quadrant.  
Here on Voyager, my resources are somewhat limited and the next  
time will most likely require more than a bone marrow transplant.  
I certified the Lieutenant fit for duty, this morning. And I hope  
that it is decades before he has to face this illness again, if  
any.   
  
Fin!!!  
  
  
This is it. We've been hearing a lot lately about possible  
treatments for the #1 illness of the 90's, (from herbal medicine  
like Taxol, gene re-sequencing, to treating cancer with a  
vaccine,...), and there goes my hopes.   
  
If you have not read the Author's note, please go back and do so.  
If you want to share your thoughts about this story, about how it  
made you feel, we are interested in feedback.  
  
Big thanks to PJ in NH who helped proofing this text.  
  
Isabelle S. and Louise B. (a.k.a. Synbou)  
synbou@hotmail.com  
  
Copyrights April 1998. 


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